Making Memories
by themanonthemoon
Summary: Sometimes the best companions don't have to be human. This is the story of how Rory's dog (a peculiarly ginger one, at that) decided to borrow the Doctor. My take on the Doctor's travels after 'The Angels Take Manhattan.'
1. Goodbye Rory

Chapter 1 – Goodbye Rory

It began in the middle of the night, as do all great friendships begin.

At a quarter past eleven in the soggy air of Leadworth, a raggedy man walked away from a girl who had ginger hair. The sound of his boots squishing noisily as he walked could have been heard two doors away. Perhaps little Amelia would have heard it had she not been filled with excitement and wonder and an insatiable hunger to return to bed and dream of her future with dinosaurs and Romans.

Perhaps the Doctor would have noticed and parked the TARDIS slightly nearer had he not been stricken with grief.

He walked slow lethargic steps, savouring the last he could of his dear Amelia Pond - the cold night air, the orange petunias that peppered the edge of the garden, the aura of the house that had too many doors, the cracks that defined Amy – that led him here. That led him crash landing to this very place – this very spot. In fact, he could almost hear the squishing of her little red boots now, scurrying towards his broken blue box.

The Doctor let himself stand there for a moment – allowing himself to reminisce before shutting himself and filing the place 'Leadworth' in his TARDIS under lock and key.

_Squish. Squish. Squish. Squish._

_What? _The Doctor turned on his heel and looked down. _That_ particular flashback had ended two minutes ago. He narrowed his eyes at the wet soil before him. That was definitely not the sound of Amelia Pond. He waited for a few more minutes before actually following what the instructions on the TARDIS door said and pulled to open.

Maybe he was hallucinating. He rubbed a hand over his face. His skin was clammy and cold and all in all thoroughly uncomfortable. He could almost hear the voices of Amy, River and even Brian.

**"This is what you get when you travel alone."**

And the Doctor couldn't help but muse that it had hardly been an hour since River had left. He already felt like dying.

The TARDIS hummed in discontent and the Doctor found himself moving towards the console. His fingers flicking, twisting, pressing knobs and buttons in what a real doctor might have called muscle memory. After his ritual, he stroked the console endearingly. "No offense, Sexy."

The TARDIS groaned and shook again in a state of utter annoyance. The Doctor gripped at whatever he could hold on to as Sexy continued to bellow him with moans and rumbles and incomprehensible words that he was relieved only he understood.

"What do mean there's an intruder?!" he gritted out.

His eyes searched the room desperately. "Come out whoever you are! Seriously. Show yourself! When the old girl gets cross, well let's leave it at that…!"

He reached for his sonic and managed a hasty scan. He could barely read the detections before a loud low whining sound interrupted the TARDIS's rampage.

The whining soon turned into short ragged pants and before the Doctor (and the TARDIS) knew it, full-blown barking echoed across the room.

"No. NO! Stop! For the sake of Gallifrey!" the Doctor shut his ears, suddenly finding it difficult to regain his bearings.

And quite unsurprisingly, the barking became increasingly louder.

The Doctor eventually found the source of the chaos hidden under the console floor- tangled amongst the mass of colourful wires which even the Doctor felt, were there for more purpose of decoration.

He hurried down the stairs and attempted to untangle it. The big hairy creature was wrestling and toppling and together with the Doctor, they made a combination of flailing limbs – which would have made a beautiful picture if Amy was there; who probably would have entitled it ' First Pet' for family keepsake. After what seemed like a century of uncoordinated teamwork, man and dog managed to untangle themselves from the wires and each other.

"You've got to be joking. A dog!" The Doctor exclaimed in the aftermath of having his personal space (if he had any) invaded by a slobbering ball of fur. The TARDIS, however, couldn't have agreed more.

The Doctor successfully managed to transport the dog upstairs with commendable ease compared to his previous physical encounter with it. In fact, he managed to secure it to the rail using a leash the TARDIS had conveniently supplied._ Perhaps this dog wasn't too bad…_. After all, animals are nice. Dogs are companionable even…

_But where did it come from? Why did it follow me? Sexy let it in even though she knew she was allergic?_

The Doctor ended up a few feet away from the dog due to his pacing while the dog continued to stare expectantly at him. Its big doe eyes following his every movement.

When the Doctor finally remembered the dog's presence (and his manners), he asked politely, "What's your name?"

The intelligent reply he expected never came. Instead the dog continued to gaze at him in awe. It almost always looked like it was thoroughly fascinated.

"Hmm… I suppose I've lost touch of that language," he said thoughtfully reminding himself to get the TARDIS to refresh his memory.

"For now, let's have a look see." He reached for thick band of leather nestled beneath the blanket of fur. With his hands groping through its never ending mass of soft fur, the Doctor found the dog rather comfortable.

He read the label, "Ginger is your name, apparently."

The Doctor couldn't have helped to feel slightly jealous. He gave the dog a once over before declaring "Well, you are actually a dull shade of brown," he pointed out.

He inspected the collar some more and noticed with quiet surprise that written on the band with thick black marker was, 'If lost, please return to Rory Arthur Williams.'

The Doctor stared at the writing for a while. It was neat and adult that it must have been belonged to Brian.

_Oh little Rory._

And suddenly, he felt enourmously unhappy and a little guilty. _Well, if this is what it takes to move on._

The Doctor never believed in fate and destiny. But he did believe in hope and perhaps this indeed was.

The TARDIS hadn't moved and as the Doctor stared at the closed doors that would have led them back to Leadworth, he decided that this dog was going to see so much more than that.

"I'm going to call you the Nose, if you don't mind," said the Doctor.

Ginger didn't mind at all. (well at least, not at the moment.)


	2. No words

Chapter 2 - No words.

The Nose was unusually quiet. From what had transpired over the past twelve hours, he concluded that in his mind he would always and forever remain Ginger. He didn't mind the fact that he was now christened the Nose. However, it puzzled him to no end as to what it meant. It wasn't even a proper name. Furthermore, was the confusing fact as to why the Doctor did not return him back to Rory.

There was a temporal state of inner struggle within Ginger. A part of him argued that he shouldn't have explored the blue box that smelled extraordinary and glowed a heavenly light, whereas another part of him defended that he had expected to be returned back to Rory once he was found because that was what the good citizens of Leadworth would have done.

Although, it suddenly occurred to Ginger in a curiously frightening manner, that this man who smelled like a mixture of dust and shooting stars couldn't have been from Leadworth because everyone from Leadworth smelt faintly of ducks and mossy ponds.

And this scared Ginger, for he had a feeling that he would never ever come back.

For a short amount of time, Ginger didn't know what to do. And once his mind regained its bearings, he attempted a series of simple barks just to convey considerably straight forward messages.  
_Who are you? Where are you from? Take me home. Keep me safe. Feed me food._

"Really the Nose? Really?" the Doctor would respond in an exasperated sigh. And suddenly as if by a stroke of genius, he would say sternly, "SIT."

And quite honestly, Ginger truly didn't understand what the man was requesting. If it wasn't obvious enough, Ginger was already seated. If the man wanted him to be quiet, why didn't he say so or perhaps even consider Ginger's reasonable proposals?

_Was the Doctor purposefully ignoring what Ginger was telepathically forcing on him?_

If that was the case, then Ginger decided that the Doctor must be a terribly rude and ignorant man indeed. Ginger knew very little of the Doctor having spent a large amount of time getting acquainted with the bright blue box who was, in Ginger's opinion, far more considerate.

Ginger respected the TARDIS as a compatible companion, at least on a first name basis. The Doctor didn't even properly introduce himself. There were no customary 'hello's and 'Would you like a seat or perhaps some tea?' from the Doctor. There were however, occasional pats for politeness and then the Doctor was lost in a world that was lightyears beyond Ginger.

"Where shall we go now old girl? Hmmm?" the raggedy man would say sitting quietly on his revolving chair. The TARDIS usually wouldn't respond to these sort of rhetorical questions. Then in a sign of defeat, he would turn to Ginger, a small twitch in his lips. Ginger secretly wondered why he did that. "What about you, the Nose? Any suggestions?"

It was Ginger's queue to look away - avoiding his gaze - wondering once again why he kept asking that question when he knew no one was going to answer.

Ginger couldn't understand the Doctor and his purpose and how Ginger got tangled up within his messy web. The Doctor barely understood it either. After all, it was the TARDIS that led Ginger here.

Ginger was always fascinated by TARDIS. He was constantly amazed at how everything in that strange environment never stopped scaring him and making his nostrils tingle and his eyes water.

And amidst all this chaos of smells and colours, the Doctor appeared as a protruding distraction that was hard to miss. He was always there, sitting, doing something to keep himself occupied. Ginger wondered that if he paid more attention to this man, then maybe the man would pay more attention to him.

Ginger slumped against the console floor - pressing his nose against the cool glass. The TARDIS swayed and Ginger felt as if there were invisible glass arms stroking his abundant fur. The TARDIS didn't speak but Ginger could relate to her. Perhaps it was because she was _the pet._ Although the Doctor treated her like an equal, it was clear that she _belonged_ to him. Ginger _had belonged_ to Rory but now he wasn't sure anymore. He supposed he belonged to the Doctor now. He didn't think the Doctor could ever replace what he'd lost.

Ginger was tired. Exhausted, in fact. His head was bowing and his eyes were drooping. And his mouth – well, the product of _that_ exhaustion was evident in an oozing string of drool hanging dangerously alongside his mouth. He was drained from every aspect of his being.

He watched tiredly as the Doctor hung suspended beneath the console floor – whizzing and tinkering about. His eyes shielded by a pair of darkened goggles and his mouth forever twisting into a confused frown. He looked like he was desperately trying to swallow his lips. It amused Ginger to an extent but troubled him to know why he was so upset.

Ginger watched as his hands never stopped tweaking and twisting like they never got tired. A sudden spark of light would shake Ginger out of his stupor and then Ginger would sit up straighter – his brown eyes reflecting the colours that sprang to life before him.

'You are beautiful.' Ginger would tell the TARDIS and in response, she would hum in a way the Doctor recognized as laughing.

He would take off his goggles and glance curiously at Ginger as if unraveling layers of puzzle just with his eyes. And Ginger would stare back - just for awhile because he knew that if he stared too long he would drown in the memories those eyes had seen. Ginger could only remember so much.

What he could never forget was the way the Doctor's mouth would turn. It would spring to an upward curve. Free from its previous cage - so alive and infectious that even Ginger wished he could smile too. It almost hurt him to know that his lips could only flap haplessly on his protruding snout.

He was fascinated by this miraculous man and how his eyes sparkled like the stars Ginger spoke to every lonely night. Maybe this was an answer - a set of twinkling teeth.

Ginger decided that he would watch over the Doctor more often. In fact, if he could manage it, every second of every day.

Just enough so he could see him smile. And so that he didn't have to remember it.


	3. Dandelions

Chapter 3 - Dandelions

They went to see the dandelions. It was a Sunday, if one bothered to keep count of the days and it was raining. The Doctor didn't understand the logic in that.

"It's Sun-day. Why would anyone call a Sunday a Sunday? Unless it's sunny!"

Apparently, in this planet, the sun always shined on Sundays. The rain however, was no surprise to Ginger who had long weathered the constant drizzle in Leadworth.

He stuck out a paw, tested the squishiness and stability of the mud, before cautiously stepping out of the TARDIS and sinking his hind legs into the brown ground.

The Doctor was already meters away, drenched in rain, cupping a hand over eyes as if scanning the area for a ray of sunshine.

Ginger looked hopelessly at the man, removing one muddy paw after the other to walk towards him.

"There's nothing here but brown brown and more brown. Do you know how much I dislike that colour !" the Doctor shouted at the giant cumulonimbus above him.

The rain clouds responded with another shower of rain, beating against the two of them like bullets.

Ginger found himself sinking into the mud, his body unable to withstand the sudden weight of the rain. There were red lights beeping in Ginger's mind. His body was gradually submerging into the soft ground. His eyes were blinded by the water droplets that collected in his eyelashes. His skull was pounded by the heavy droplets that fell from the sky. Ginger felt like his fur was slipping off him. He shook his head madly trying to open his mouth and bark, only to discover that his entire snout was buried into the ground. His eyes peeped at the grey gloomy sky.

**_Doctor, doctor! Help!_**

Suddenly, he felt a pair of large hands grip at his middle, forcing him out of the mud. There was a struggle. Ginger shifted his legs, loosening them against the pressure the ground was forcing on them. The hands heaved and secured themselves below Ginger's fore legs. Ginger kicked his hind legs, pushing himself out of the mud. His snout appeared above the surface. Ginger saw the Doctor, his eyes shut tight, his legs dug firmly into the mud, his lanky limbs gripping Ginger's body with full force. Ginger grunted, kicked harder against the mud. Dirt sprayed over the two of them.

"Urgh!" the Doctor found Ginger's collar and with one final heave, pulled the dog out of the mud. Ginger fell forward, his body slick with mud, collapsing on top of the Doctor who immediately shoved him off and gulped a breath of air.

"What on earth was that?" the man sighed tiredly.

Ginger stared at the Doctor, his own body heaving as he breathed hard. There were streaks of dirt on the Doctor's pale face, his tweed was littered a few feet away from them and his bowtie was askew. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, which were almost indistinguishable with all the brown-black dirt that covered them. His shirt and pants front had a series of smudged paw prints on them, his hair was pressed flat against his skull as rain continued to pound mercilessly against the two of them.

Ginger wanted to laugh just like the Doctor seemed to do when Ginger caught him off guard, but all the mirth he gathered in his throat simply rumbled out in a high-pitched bark. The Doctor smiled and reached forward to pat Ginger's mud crusted fur - quietly wondering whether dogs bathe themselves.

"You're a funny dog, the Nose. You deserve a cartoon," he said fondly as his smile stretched at the sight of the now dark brown dog. Ginger finally didn't stand for his name. The Doctor noticed how the dog's eyes sparkled amidst the dirt that was caked on him.

"So much for the dandelions, eh?" he said reaching out a hand to touch the rain. He closed his eyes. "I had quite a few wishes to make."

Ginger looked at the rain, only to get his eyes splashed with droplets. Frustrated, Ginger looked at the ground instead. Now, that the rain had reduced to a drizzle, the mud wasn't as squishy as it was and Ginger was able to rest properly albeit uncomfortably on its surface.

The Doctor leaned back on his arms, ignorant as his hands sunk into the slimy ground.

"There are so many things in the universe - in existence, that sometimes you feel like swallowing everything whole. The thing is, you'll lose out on all the flavor. You can't slow down and savor every bit of it. And whats the best part, the Nose? To go back in time and taste it all over again."

Ginger rested his head on his front legs and glanced at the Doctor as he spoke.

_I want to go back and see Rory, if that's alright, _Ginger thought.

And somehow, both of them knew, that that wish was impossible.


	4. Rule Number One

Rule Number One

The TARDIS shook violently in the Vortex - which was unusual since the Doctor fixed the blue stabilizers just days before.

"Who, in the name of history, experiences turbulence in a time vortex?!" the Doctor shouted above the ear piercing noises Sexy was producing, with a muffled mutter that sounded like, 'First the swimming pool, now this.'

Ginger was sure he vomited five times in the past hour, in different rooms, just for variation. He very much hoped that this annoyed Sexy for he was very cross with her indeed. No, there was no dancing or warm feelings this time. This was raw and plain inconsiderate. Ginger didn't appreciate her show one bit, and apparently so didn't the Doctor.

"Please! What is it,old girl?!" he shouted exasperatedly after numerous failed attempts of tweaking, twisting, pushing and pulling buttons on the console.

_Console. Console. Console. And then, Eureka!_

An imaginary light bulb flickered to life above the Doctor's head. A different approach would calm sensitive old Sexy.

Ginger watched as the Doctor patted the lever and stroked the overworked pumping device. He was like an asthmatic cure for a hyperventilating child.

Sometimes Ginger couldn't tell the difference between the two. How simply they switched their roles with one another, balancing out each other. He was the father now, he was the friend, and she was the rebellious daughter whose secrets were sometimes even beyond the Doctor.

Compromise, however, was slightly difficult when only one party could speak the known language. "I'm sorry. Is that why you're mad?" the Doctor said gently - his eyes fixed on his fingers. The TARDIS bellowed a deep woodwind sound - soft and then staggering. The Doctor smirked and Ginger watched intently as he said, "I'm trying."

The dog noticed the downcast of his eyes, the lines on his brow and knew that 'trying' was harder than he thought. The dog also noticed by the unhappy response of the TARDIS that the Doctor's 'trying' was just not enough.

Sexy huffed and Ginger felt her warm extensions clench his heart in a tight fist. _By George was she a feisty blue cupboard!_

"Shhhh... There, there," the Doctor hushed her, drawing soothing circles against her console. "Maybe it is time to revise your data core," he suggested quietly.

The TARDIS shook adamantly. And Ginger almost suffocated with the weight of her emotions against him._ Please don't,_ Ginger pleaded in his mind, for the sake of himself more than the TARDIS.

Her new look was entirely her idea. It happened when the Doctor decided to walk Ginger in the Hanging Gardens of Babylon. Sexy disappeared immediately after that, vanishing into thin air and only returning hours later. Unfortunately, the Mesopotamians weren't entirely pleased with the helpless condition of Ginger's bowel movements, especially since he left most of his evidence on the sacred Dico-crista tree ( imported from the Elongato planet). The Doctor almost lost his arms in the prosecution and Ginger was almost sacrificed as a substitute for roasted boar, had it not been for the TARDIS that finally materialized around them.

"Green," was the first thing the Doctor said as he inspected his surroundings. Nobody said anything after that even though there was a lingering air of the words, "Still not ginger" waiting to be uttered.

Ginger was pleased, grateful that he didn't die on an empty stomach and happy that the Doctor's lips seemed to twitch in delight at the sight of the new interior.

Hence, revising her data core would be a terrible idea. She would blow up in fits of rage. She would even turn red if she wanted to. Ginger did not want to live to see that happen. He didn't expect to anyway, by the way she was clawing at his heart. He gave a short yelp and suddenly it seemed to loosen the tightness within him.

"Sorry," said the Doctor again. _You're forgiven_, accepted Ginger quickly on behalf of the TARDIS, who just wanted the madness to end. This time, Sexy seemed to comply - her golden arms retreating back in defeat. She was only trying to help him. He just didn't listen. She was trying to help him. Hopeless. Selfish. Old. Time lord.

Ginger felt every pang of her snide words. It was bitter and angry and Ginger just wanted to hide under the console floor and think of the times he used to sneak a lick of Brian's morning coffee on winter's morning.

The Doctor scowled. **This is what you get when you travel alone.**

_Alone._ He gave a sidelong glance at Ginger who sat in his corner of the TARDIS, only his round dark eyes gleaming in the darkness of the room. Was sorry enough? The Doctor wasn't sure for he was indebted with enough apologies to keep him running forever. Instead, he said "We'll go somewhere. I promise."

Ginger's eyes lifted hopefully and the Doctor returned it with a wry expression.

Were there enough promises?

Oh, he could count them all, and tell you how they turned into lies.

* * *

**A/N: The silent author has finally spoken! I merely wanted to note that this is a filler chapter - in hopes for the story to flow with more continuity. Reviews are encouraging so please drop one on your way out :) Thank you for reading! - tmotm **


	5. Anniversary

Anniversary.

She was happy. He knew she was. She was glowing - albeit an eerie green but still, she was positively merry. Ginger could tell, by the way she rocked and hummed and swayed, that her happiness would probably cause his last meal to throw up on the floor. It would be a priceless revenge though. Ginger wondered how the Doctor managed it - there he was defying gravity once again as he failed to stumble when the TARDIS made a ninety degree turn. His bow tie dangled like a ribbon around his neck, his braces swayed around his hips like distorted wings and his tweed was no where to be seen.

Ginger was tired of skittering across the shiny floors and he truly missed the spiral staircases he had discovered deep within the bowels of the TARDIS before she decided to change. He remembered how they spiraled down without him having to walk down step by step. And the beautiful way they interlocked in a never ending ride. Ginger would sit there for hours just listening to what the TARDIS had to tell him. Sometimes there were whispers, sometimes there was a warm feeling stirring within him and he knew that it was her - shaking the life out of him to just LISTEN.

And as Ginger observed the Doctor now, leaning against the rails, staring into worlds beyond, he realised that perhaps during these quiet moments when time seemed to stand still, _he_ was listening. And the violent thrashes were really just her talking, animatedly, in full force.

The inscriptions of Galifreyan on the console glowed and Ginger felt he was in the presence of something truly majestic. She brought out the best in that raggedy man - and at times when he looked more like a street worn Scrooge, rather than an ageless god, her golden arms would encircle him like a halo. And Ginger knew that the Doctor felt it too. That warm feeling.

_**Listen to me.**_

Sometimes Ginger would comply. Nodding to her advice and perking at her jokes. There were times when Ginger would cower, in fear she might explode for her worry over that selfish old man. She was bright blue and bigger on the inside. She was the Doctor's mother- always there and always doting.

Ginger wondered whether a family could get any better than this. Perhaps it could, with the addition of Rory. Otherwise, Ginger felt fine - completely content, in this home of his.

The rumbling didn't stop, Ginger's body slid to one end of the room, the Doctor smiled to himself and the warm feeling inside was tugging against his heart like a child grabbing its mother's hand.

_What is it?_

She hummed in response. Her voice was the sound of Beethoven playing in the background. Ginger's eyes widened and his brown orbs focused themselves on the Doctor._ He doesn't look sad to me..._

The tempo heightened to staccato and exploded into a fierce waltz as the TARDIS rumbled an equivalent of a roar and Ginger was slammed into a nearby shelf. Spacey wacey things piled on top of him, and Ginger thought it was rather rude of her to speak to two people at once.

_He looks ... Happy_. Ginger replied honestly, noticing the dreamy smile upon the raggedy man's face as he danced across the console. The TARDIS shifted to one side, the Doctor side stepped and hummed. He was dancing with her.

Ginger felt her sigh, her warmth was fading slowly, slipping its grasp on his heart and suddenly Ginger felt utterly cold.

_Doesn't he? He's smiling, _Ginger began. _He even took us to Spain to eat spaghetti and the planet made of a flying islands! What about all the sandcastles we built? And destroyed..._

The TARDIS groaned. _**Ginger would never understand**_, her gesture said.

_I can try, _Ginger persisted, grasping at her golden arms.

Then she stopped moving - and everything stilled. The Doctor sighed and sat tiredly on the captain's chair. His chest rising and falling slowly with every breath he took. He peered at Ginger through his floppy hair that dangled over his forehead. His chin tilted down and he looked straight at Ginger.

Ginger felt like a pin-pointed target. The only thing he could do was walk towards him. He uprooted his hind legs from the floor and took careful steps towards the man. "A celebratory dance. I don't usually keep count of the days but this time I felt that I should."

Ginger glanced at the pieces of paper that were hung on the console with a hook. Ginger recognized it as a calendar - like the dozens of free, cheap looking ones that Brian received in the mail every year.

"I wish you could say something. It's been months and you haven't uttered a word. I'm sorry that I've got to do all the talking, it must be hard, for you," the Doctor lamented absently.

_Months?_ Ginger couldn't remember. The only treasure from the past that remained in his mind was the smell of Rory, the warmth of his blanket at night. Had it really been months? Perhaps it _was _important for the Doctor to keep a calendar - so he can remember.

The Doctor shuffled his feet, wrung his wrists, licked his lips and gave a sidelong glance at Ginger.

"Is it too much to ask from a Ginger haired dog - " the Doctor asked out of the blue, with a smile in his voice, " to accompany me on an adventure."

_What kind of adventure? And since when do you ask permission?_ My, My, something was terribly wrong indeed. Ginger settled between the Doctors legs, expecting a pat of some sort. It never came. Instead, Ginger looked upon the man and found his eyes sparkling with tears. Alarmed, Ginger reached up his massive head, licked the Doctor's cheeks and was glad to hear the beginnings of laughter in his belly. Soon the Doctor was rumbling with emotion and tears which Ginger hoped were ones of happiness "Oi!" the Doctor exclaimed, shoving Ginger's form off him with such force before attacking him with a rain of tickles.

Ginger breathed heavily and beamed as the Doctor praised him.

"I'm sorry the Nose, I'll make it up to you, I promise."

Ginger nodded gratefully, patiently, politely ignoring the promises that never seemed to show. His eyes, dropped to the calendar that hung motionlessly on the console. The Doctor on the other hand had a millions things in his head all at once. The TARDIS jerked and shifted to the left. Ginger and the Doctor were swerved towards the console rail. The Doctor sprang out of his swirly chair before it slammed into the bars.

"Excellent! Brilliant! Let me just fix the swimming pool and we'll be on our way!" and the Doctor was on his feet, bounding towards the corridor like a little boy. And in the midst of it all, there would be twirl and hop and a skip and perhaps a stumble on his own two feet. His footfalls faded into the distance of the TARDIS.

Ginger eyed the calendar curiously - hoping to find Brian's scent on it. It did look very familiar after all. He poked and prodded and finally it dropped at his feet. After sniffing it, Ginger was surprised to find that it was empty. Simply blank white pages. The TARDIS swayed and the pages turned, only to prove that it was thoroughly blank.

It confused Ginger to no end, but soon after the swimming pool was fixed (again) and the TARDIS was quiet, when the Doctor hung below the TARDIS, it became clear to Ginger. Clear as the tears that rolled silently down the man's face when he read a torn page. Beneath the round rimmed spectacles that reflected closed eyes. A torn afterword that was cautiously wedged between the folds of the otherwise empty calendar. The one Ginger failed to notice before.

The Doctor wasn't trying to remember, he was trying to forget.


End file.
